


Out of Bounds

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Criminal Sans, Fontcest, Handcuffs, M/M, Police Papyrus, Public Sex, Streettale AU, except they're not related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7990183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans is living the hard life on the streets, just trying to get by -- a goal that gets infinitely more difficult once he catches the predatory eye of one particularly corrupt police officer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Bounds

**Author's Note:**

> This Streettale AU is based on the drawings and comics by amortem-kun on tumblr! 8D Please check them out. They do gorgeous work.

Sans leaned back against the chain-link fence, his gaze darting from side to side just in case there was any possibility of an escape route he’d overlooked. Left: the blank brick wall of a warehouse, no doors or windows, and the hollow carcass of a car that wouldn’t even offer a decent hiding place. Right: a roller-door, heavily rusted and very obviously locked with a thick steel padlock that his weakened magic wouldn’t be able to break through. Up: a row of blue bones just daring him to try and climb the damn fence. He probably couldn’t, even without the barrier in the way. He was exhausted, starving, shaking.

_Caught_.

“My, my,” taunted his pursuer. Their grating voice put a defensive sneer on Sans’s face. The police officer looked too damn smug with his catch, aggressively brandishing his baton in a way that let Sans know he was _hoping_ for resistance. “What do we have here?”

_Fucker_ , Sans thought vehemently, unable to resist the urge to step back although all that accomplished was his spine pressing harder against the fence. The office was so damn _tall_ …no wonder he’d managed to keep up with Sans despite his extensive knowledge of the back-streets and the few, desperate shortcuts he’d managed to stumble through. The other skeleton was damn persistent too. Most police knew better than to venture so far from the main roads without backup, but this one radiated dangerous intent so brazenly that, if not for the uniform, he would have seemed right at home by the sheer confidence of his demeanour.

Sans hedged slightly to the side, wondering if there was any chance of ducking around the officer, but almost immediately found himself facing the blunt end of the baton. It lodged itself under his chin, hovering ominously in the space where his windpipe would have been if he were a fleshy monster.

“Ah ah,” the officer warned, smiling at him with jagged teeth. Sans felt himself sweating. “Bad boys need to learn not to steal anything.”

His tone was light and mocking. Sans bared his own fangs, feeling uncomfortably like prey in the sights of a superior predator. “Fuck off!”

It was an impotent insult and they both knew it. The baton stabbed at him more meaningfully, grazing against his throat and making his breath hitch with a small squeak of sound.

“None of that language,” the officer warned him smoothly. “I know the watch is in your left pocket. Take it out and put it on the ground.”

Sans growled lowly, but he had no choice. He’d have to give up his prize. Moving with exaggerated slowness he dipped his hand into his pocket and took out the watch he’d so carefully lifted from his target. The human had never even noticed the theft, but apparently inattention was a common affliction today; Sans hadn’t even seen the nearby officer until he was instinctively ducking the arms that had tried to pin him in place. He’d run from the threat before even fully recognising it, but the officer was tenacious and ever so slightly faster. He’d matched all of Sans’s tricks with impossible stamina and the predatory sprint of a practised hunter.

Sans stared the officer in the eye, and with an impudent smirk let the watch drop. It landed on the pavement with a loud crack that Sans hoped meant it had broken on impact. The officer gave him an unimpressed look, but unfortunately didn’t seem too upset at the damage to the goods. He didn’t even look down at the watch. His gaze hadn’t left Sans at all, which was incredibly unsettling.

“So you _can_ be obedient,” the officer mused, taking a half-step closer, making the difference in their heights all the more painfully obvious. “That’s…promising.”

Sans could feel his soul fluttering with panic. He swallowed dryly, trying to find his voice. “Y-you could…keep the watch, you know. It’s genuine. Worth a pretty penny to the right buyer. I can give you some names-”

The baton nudged the underside of his chin, cutting off his babbling as his jaw clicked shut. “I’m not interested in money.”

_Fuck. Fuck!_ Sans had a terrible feeling about this. The officer had a quiet violence in his eyes that gave Sans the wild impression that his heartfelt chase had somehow really pissed the other skeleton off…or worse, caught his depraved interest.

“I…” He scrambled to think of anything that might save him, and found himself blurting out, “I only have one HP!”

The officer blinked wordlessly, and Sans felt the uncomfortable sensation of his Soul being scrutinised. Normally at this point, anyone who wished him harm would feel disgusted, disappointed. Sure, they could smack him around once, but it wouldn’t be terribly satisfying, and if the officer really cared for the justice he was meant to be upholding, he’d have to revoke his fun if he wanted to take Sans into custody alive instead of reducing him to dust.

Sans hoped he cared about that.

Sans _really really_ hoped he cared.

“So you do,” the officer noted, and much to Sans’s dismay, he _smiled_. “I guess that means you better not give me any trouble. Hands up.”

Quaking, Sans compliantly lifted his arms and offered his hands to be cuffed, which the officer seemed to take an unholy amount of pleasure in doing. He tightened the manacles strictly around Sans’s wrists, making him wince. The bastard probably knew that the slender bones could easily slip out of a less stringent hold.

What he didn’t expect was for the officer to grab him by the chain and yank him forwards until his body was flush against the taller skeleton. He tensed immediately, feeling his face flush with confusion and outrage only to have his skull forcibly yanked back to meet the other’s fearsome, crimson eyelights.

“Now you will do exactly as I tell you,” the other murmured pleasantly. “It would be such a shame if you made me hurt you.”

Sans choked on his protest as the other leaned down, that smug, jagged smile grazing against his own mouth. He flinched, squeezing his sockets shut, trying to will away the sensation of something warm and wet curling inquisitively against his teeth. He kept his jaw clenched shut, but couldn’t hold back a low, desperate whine. His distress seemed to serve only to amuse the officer.

“Open your mouth,” the officer hissed against his cheek with a scalding breath of air. For a brief moment, Sans wondered what would happen if he refused, and the hesitation must have showed because the crushing hold on his body tightened incrementally. After a wavering moment, fear won out, and he reluctantly parted his teeth. Immediately the officer’s mouth wedged his own wider, forcing a blistering kiss, plundering his mouth with his long, sinuous tongue. It was hot and thick, curling experimentally against the roof of his mouth, stroking and tickling until Sans reflexively formed his own tongue to try and force out the intrusion. That was a mistake. The electrical spark of magic-on-magic made his Soul stutter and his vision flicker. He tried to garble an objection only to have the noises swallowed and vehemently ignored as the invading tongue twined more insistently around his own, creating more dizzying jolts that left him reeling.

He scrabbled weakly at the front of the officer’s uniform, trying to jar him from this insanity or maybe plead for mercy. His cuffed wrists made it awkward, his elbows folded helplessly against the other’s ribcage, his hands shaking too badly to impart any real strength. His legs were loosing strength too, he realised, feeling them slowly folding beneath him as all his concentration went towards holding together what little of his senses remained.

He felt like he was falling, only to realise the officer was actually forcing him backwards, bending his spine until he overbalanced. Sans gasped, expecting to be toppled back on his tail bone, but instead his back hit an obstruction far sooner than he would have expected. He gaped stupidly, needing a moment to recognise it was the rusted bonnet of the dilapidated car beneath him, and that his body was now precariously balanced horizontally, at waist height.

The officer started reaching for his belt.

Sans snapped, kicking out furiously. “No! Fuck! No, don’t-!”

The officer was too close for Sans to land a blow on him, his pelvis pressed up against the space between Sans’s legs. He tried to struggle, to roll away and crawl to freedom, but as he heaved to haul himself upright an almost casual fist clipped him on the side of the jaw. The blow rattled right through his skull, leaving him stunned at the sudden pain and the frozen horror that if that blow had been a little harder, a little more _intent_ , it could easily have dusted him.

“Don’t be difficult!” the officer growled at him, yanking Sans back into place and taking a moment to examine the new raw spot at the corner of Sans’s mouth. Sans shook, but stayed limp, his arms curled  close to his chest as the officer scrutinised him and then let go with a huff of satisfaction. “I wouldn’t suggest testing my patience.”

Sans whimpered, bringing his hands up to cradle the ache. It hadn’t cracked the bone, but it felt hot and tender as an invisible bruise. “I’m…sorry…please, don’t-!”

“Shh,” the officer cooed at him, grabbing either side of Sans’s hips and grinding forward. Through the thick cloth of the other’s uniform, Sans could feel the distinctive outline of his pubic arch and found himself flushing in humiliation. It pressed against his own with wicked, experienced friction, making him jerk helplessly and unwillingly against the stimulation. “If you behave, this will go much more smoothly.”

_For who_? Sans thought wretchedly, but didn’t dare ask. The officer had shown he was willing to use force, and Sans wouldn’t be able to take another hit. He clenched his teeth, trying to choke down the small whimpers of sound that tried to force their way out.

The officer seemed dissatisfied with his silence though, despite his demand for Sans to comply. He had a firm grip on each crest of Sans’s ilium and was forcefully rutting against him until the smaller skeleton was gasping raggedly, yelping from the harsh contact. The pathetic noise seemed to gratify some dark pleasure, because Sans could feel something else starting to form at the officer’s crotch; softer than bone and sparking with the same crackling energy as his tongue.

Sans shut his eyes again, feeling liquid bubbling up along the rims of his sockets. No, fuck, he wouldn’t cry in front of this bastard. He wouldn’t beg, even though someone shoving raw magic into his pelvic inlet was probably going to hurt like hell, especially given what he could already guess about the size of the other’s arousal. Holy fuck. Would that even fit?

The officer’s furious pace slowed slightly, and Sans dared to catch a glimpse of the other skeleton’s face though the protective shield of his fingers. He still looked remarkably composed, in spite of his blatant arousal, but there was an exhilirated spark to his eyelights and a rough rasp to the breath that hissed through his jagged teeth. His sharp eyes honed in on Sans’s face, and unexpectedly the officer leered with almost benign affection. Sans flinched, feeling somehow small and insignificant, and yet pinned, like the shell of an insect in a display case.

Rough hands forced him to roll over, leaving his hips balanced on the edge of the bonnet and his face pressed against the chipped hood. He shuddered all over as his shorts were dragged down and allowed to fall down his femurs, pooling over his sneakers. His chest heaved in panic as he braced for the immediate pain of insertion.

Except several long moments passed where absolutely nothing happened. Sans tried to regain control of his breathing, wondering what the hell the officer was doing. He didn’t dare turn to look just in case it was taken as another insubordinate struggle. Was the other just…looking at him? Staring at Sans’s naked tailbone, his spread stance, his small, shivering form? Sans almost wished he would just get the fuck on with it already. The wait was agonising.

When he finally moved, however, Sans regretted his reckless wish, because instead of thrusting into him the officer reached down and with unexpected gentleness began tracing the delicate tip of his coccyx. Sans whined in alarm, his fingers clawing mindlessly against the bonnet with an unpleasant screech of sound, but a low, throaty chuckle was the officer’s only answer as he carefully curled his phalanges against the underside of Sans’s sacrum and delved into the opening of his pelvis with a touch that was almost tender.

Sans shuddered again, from horror and a slow, irreversibly building arousal.

The initial harsh, jolting friction against his pubic symphysis had already his bones alight with unpleasant heat, but this was different. This was calculated and persistent and unbearably skilful, teasing him just enough to leave him unsatisfied, to fool his body into thinking he wanted this. This was worse than just rape, this was making him complicit in his violation.

But…was it really so much worse than the officer just shoving in when he wasn’t even remotely primed for it? It occurred to him distantly that this was probably his only chance to make the act marginally less agonising, and no matter what he really thought of it, he still didn’t have a choice. Hesitantly, he let his weight shift to the balls of his feet, stretching up on his toes to allow access at a more comfortable angle, and was rewarded with a smoother caress that sent ripples of yearning through his body.

He tried not to think about the circumstances – about how he was bent over a grungy car by some power-mad officer of the law with a grudge – and tried to just focus on the parts that felt almost bearable. The careful way the officer angled the sharpened tips of his phalanges so they only scraped pleasantly against the bone. The tingling of his own magic building and coiling over his pelvis. It wasn’t willing to coalesce into anything specific, but the growing heat made his bones softer and more supple, and the condensation of eager magic began to form and ooze along the circumference of his pelvic inlet, warm and slick. The officer purred his approval, sliding his fingers through the new lubrication, miming a thrust that made Sans keen in surprise.

“Good boy,” the officer praised him, and horribly, Sans felt himself warm at the positive affirmation. The officer’s voice was low and deep, with a strange sort of power to it that made every word strangely mesmerising. Sans felt a hand on the back of his neck press him forward, forcing him to try balance on the tips of his toes to stay grounded. There was the quiet jingle of a belt unbuckling, and this time Sans felt less like the noise would break him completely. He stayed quiet and still as the officer released an emphatic sigh of relief, and something painfully hot and intimidatingly thick began nosing at the opening beneath his tailbone.

Sans wailed raggedly as the officer’s cock pressed into him, the smooth shaft of magic struggling to find the most accessible angle through his pelvic inlet. Sans was pressed harder into the bonnet, and large hand grabbed him by the base of the spine and eased him back onto that thick penetration. The friction was brutal, hot and intense, the officer’s magic forcing the softened and sensitive bone of Sans’s pelvis to flex to accommodate him, and the ache was both unfamiliar and mind-numbingly pleasurable.

It still hurt, but not in the way he was used to pain; the way every jostling impact he’d ever taken left his bones feeling thin and fragile, his soul pounding from the ever present fear of the final blow that might steal his HP. This kind of hurt filled him up with a throbbing urgency that made him twitch and whine helplessly,  hating every moment of stillness as the officer adjusted to the feeling of Sans’s body squeezing tightly around him.

And then he started moving, and Sans struggled to find scream as he was pinned roughly and fucked hard into the unforgiving surface of the car. He cast a desperate look over his shoulder, but whatever patience or restraint had held the officer back seemed to have evaporated completely. His eyes were full of dark lust, the crimson in his sockets practically burning from the pressure of magic building up within. Sans could feel it crashing over him, the static hum in the air, the crushing weight of voracios need and sickening hunger to dominate, to defile.

“Wait!” he tried to gasp, but the word was nearly lost amidst his ragged panting. “Don’t…hurts…slow down!”

Each word was met with increasingly vicious thrusts until Sans couldn’t even retain coherency. The sounds tumbling from his mouth were little more than incoherent protests and breathless moans as the cock inside him somehow found increasingly gratifying ways to move against him. He outright trembled when the office reached down and crudely stroked against the notch of his pubic symphysis, his claws scraping roughly but eliciting a reaction nonetheless. Sans felt his own magic coiling tentatively into the uncertain shape of his own sexual organ. The officer didn’t even wait for it to form completely, clenching his fist around the raw, half-formed construct and drawing another shriek out of Sans as he squeezed tightly around the emerging shape of the shaft. Sans writhed, half-panicked by the possibilities of further pain, but instead he felt the other’s phalanges circle into a tight cage around his cock, giving him something to rut against each time he was pounded from behind.

The stimulation was overwhelming, but even despite Sans’s poor stamina it was the officer who came first. Sans felt the other’s demanding rhythm pause, stagger, and suddenly a gush of heated ejaculate was spilling inside him, overflowing and drizzling down onto his own cock in with a vulgar splatter. The new slickness greased the hand stroking his cock, and against his own volition he found himself weakly bucking his hips, maddened by the wet, filthy friction to reach his own rapturous finish. He moaned wantonly, skull thrown back, eyes blind with the harrowing esctacy of orgasm as he shuddered through his own climax.

Even under more ideal circumstances, the effort always took a lot out of him and he collapsed, limp and breathless and still reeling. For a moment there was nothing but the dizzying high, the dissipating heat of magic, and the strangely intimate caress of the officer’s breath against the back of his skull. The other skeleton didn’t even need to pull out, he just let his magic dissipate, leaving Sans feeling uncomfortable and perturbingly empty as his own magic dissolved, leaving nothing but the messy traces of their release smeared against his pelvis and the tops of his femurs.

With a satisfied grunt the officer finally pulled back and let Sans go, leaving him to slide slowly off the bonnet of the car and into a puddled heap on the ground. He was starting to shiver, having expelled the last energy he had to spare during orgasm, leaving him feeling chilled and helpless. He curled into a ball, bracing himself for whatever might come next – a cruel taunt, a swift end – but after a few moments of contemplative silence all he heard was a light huff of amusement and the sound of retreating footsteps.

Wait, _what_?

He jerked upright, staring uncomprehendingly at the officer’s back as he negligently walked away, ignoring Sans completely. The sheer audacity of it made Sans irrational enough to call out.

“H-hey!” he croaked, but even though his voice was too soft to carry far, the officer stopped on a dime as if he’d been expecting it. He turned around to appraise Sans with an arch, inquiring expression.

“You…what are you…?” Sans stumbled over the words, immediately regretting his decision to speak up. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just let the bastard walk away.

“You managed to satisfy me, for the moment,” the officer informed him haughtily, and Sans wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or mortified. “In exchange, I can grant you mercy…just this once.”

“But…” Sans gestured helplessly with his handcuffed hands, glancing around anxiously. Beyond the chainlink fence he caught a glimpse of movement. Someone was lingering nearby, and if Sans knew these back streets at all, that didn’t bode well. They could probably smell the weakness of potential prey all over him, and Sans wasn’t sure he could even walk just yet, let alone shortcut himself away from trouble.

He stared at the officer’s sharp, smug expression and realised with a twist of horror that the officer knew precisely what he was doing. He was ready to leave Sans here, still bound, exhausted and used, for whoever might come to claim him, and he’d be lucky if fucking him again was all they did. He trembled violently, looking up with beseeching eyes.

“Don’t…you can’t…”

“What’s this?” the officer asked, moving closer, and Sans hated the fact that he felt marginally safer in the bastard’s presence. He had the kind of demeanour not even the meanest thug would want to fuck with, and at least his danger was a known quantity that seemed to have expended itself for the moment. “Did you want to come with me?”

Shit. So _that’s_ what the bastard wanted. Sans bit down on a vehement curse and an equally scalding insult. So first the asshole screws him into submission, and now he was twisting the situation to make himself the hero. What an absolute sleezebag.

Sans stole another furtive glance past the fence. This time he caught a glimpse of at least two shadows trying and failing to hide discreetly behind a dumper. There might be more. Sans was painfully aware of the fallen heap of his shorts beneath his knees and the fact that he was still half-naked and covered in magical release. Getting out with his dignity intact was already too tall an order. What was better; to take his chance with the mob in the dark, or with the smirking bastard in front of him who seemed downright enthused to hear Sans beg for assistance.

He grit his teeth and forced himself to choke out the word, “Yes.”

“Hmm?” The officer knelt down beside him, leering blatantly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

Sans opened his sockets to stare the bastard right in the eye, barely keeping his tone from becoming a snarl as he carefully enunciated, “Yes, I want to go with you.”

His reward was an even wider smile, and a condescending pat on the head. The disturbingly proud, possessive look in the taller skeleton’s eyes made Sans wonder if this was really the safer choice after all. “Good boy. You’re turning your life around already.”


End file.
